


Five and His Cat

by Falka_tyan



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Cat Ears, Cats, Developing Friendships, Family Issues, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Shapeshifting, Slice of Life, only Vanya and Five are siblings, only mentioned once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 12:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18800341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falka_tyan/pseuds/Falka_tyan
Summary: Five lives as a hermit for a long time already: he doesn’t see anyone and only communicates with people via mail. It was his own decision, and he is satisfied with life so far.Five doesn't want changes (or so he tells himself).The only problem is that even after running to the back of beyond one may be confronted by someone who cares. A mysterious someone who will make Five see himself and his life from a different perspective.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dgalerab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/gifts).



> Hello, everyone!
> 
> This is my first story in TUA fandom. I dedicate it to dgalerab, because I can (she is brilliant!) and because she introduced me to this fandom by starting to write for it, and subsequently, re-introduced me to Robert Sheehan who made my world so much sunnier and happier just by being the awesome human being that he is. Yay!
> 
> It's going to be a slow and calm journey, not even angsty except for several passages in Chapter 3 about which I'll warn you additionally.
> 
> As always, I wish you happy reading!

Five loves peace and solitude.  
Five hates when puny humans try to prove to him that their ideas are worth something (they are not).  
Five only ever speaks with other people per Skype (and not more often than once a month).

At 20, he still believed that his work at the university (starting with being the most inspiring freshman, being called university’s pride all the way, then becoming its youngest professor ever) and scientific research (international conferences, symposiums, other places designed for old paranoid demagogues) are the things he wants to do in his life.  
At 25, he could barely endure giving one lecture in the morning (honestly, what’s these people’s problem; why the fuck do they want to know if his journey to work today was nice or how he spent his holidays), let alone a whole day of them.  
Five thinks that his disappearance at 26 (he went off all radars for half a year; they tried to search for him but there was no trace at all where he might have gone) was a logical consequence of how his expectations clashed with the reality of things. Some may say it’s just life and everyone has to endure it; Five doesn’t care. He made his choice.

Five is 31 now.  
He has a good life.  
He has everything he needs: a house, a garden, a bicycle, skis, snowshoes, self-developed security system for his territory, several quadcopters, a weapons’ warehouse, a stock of food and seeds, a telescope… The work on autonomous power- and-water supply systems for his bomb shelter is still in progress, but when it’s finished - he will be able to allow himself some rest. Just relax for a while. Good ideas come into your head when you’re not busy with anything, after all.

Five considers himself incredibly lucky for stumbling upon this abandoned factory when he was looking for a new home. No, really, it was one chance in a billion. Five still doesn’t know how and why this place has been abandoned. There’s a special folder on his computer dedicated to ideas and theories on that topic. Five would say that this house is lucky to have him, too. Whatever his ex-colleagues would say, Five can appreciate what he has. He bets that this unnoticeable shack (that camouflages the entrance to the bomb shelter) has never been kept in such perfect order. Everything is in place, all the newly installed equipment is working. Five is especially proud of his security system: no stupid squirrel or rat, let alone any bigger animals, will come to his house unnoticed closer than 300 meters. Talking about advantages: there are lots of empty walls - high, wide, a nice hue of grey - perfect for drawings or doodles. Five takes full advantage of it.

All in all, Five is pleased with his little achievements.

This evening, Five greets another fiery-red sunset, sitting on a folding chair on the roof of the formerly main workshop of the factory. The giant flaming sphere is falling into the sea of fluffy full-grown spruces, slowly and unceasingly, drowning the forest in sequential hues of crimson, orange, and lilac.

It’s very beautiful. In such moments, Five’s thoughts are often drawn to his single sister, Vanya. She is likely sitting somewhere on a roof or by a window and looks up into the sky, as well. Maybe, accompanied by her favourite violin. Maybe, she decided to try to learn how to draw again - and stands in front of an easel with a painting brush.  
Then, Five remembers that he and Vanya live in different time zones now. The sunset immediately loses a bit of its charm. Five can only imagine that, wherever she is now, Vanya is still looking up at the sky now, with him. That’s all he can do.

He hasn’t seen his sister for five years.

When twilight starts creeping over the building, Five hides the chair under a tent and climbs down a creaky metal ladder to leave the roof. There’s rust on his palms when he’s finally standing on the ground.

Vanya sent him her photos the last time they exchanged messages. She started using some weird lenses: white iris with a blown black pupil. Five brushed it off as another identity crisis and didn't write to her that she looks like a lunatic. In Five’s opinion, Vanya is too careless when it comes to her appearance - one should put in an effort to stay at their top performance and avoid jumping from one extremity to another. He will keep this opinion to himself, though. Five also didn’t write that he was immensely happy to see Vanya at least on photos (it must be obvious that he misses her, right?).

Not for the first time, Five is contemplating going back to the civilisation. Vanya will be so happy. She’d want to meet every weekend. She’ll invite him to her next concert...  
Five feels a shiver going down his spine at the very thought of a full audience gathered to watch Vanya play. So many people… Everyone thinks about something, wants something, expresses so many emotions… How does Vanya endure it? Well, she’s on stage, hiding behind her violin with her eyes closed. She may not even see any faces behind the stage lights.

Five circles his house one last time, comes inside and closes the door. A small window at the ceiling reflects the dim sunlight. In a couple of minutes, it’ll be dark. Today, Five is not going to stargaze: his prognosis says, the night is going to be cold. His throat has been sore for two days now, he won’t risk falling ill. Five sends a message to Vanya and lies down on his mattress, not waiting for a delivery notification to pop up.

Five lies on his back and thinks about his parents. Two half-witted jerks. One made himself crazy with his end-of-the-world talks, the other was so addicted to her medications that she wouldn’t notice anything around her. For some obscure reason, he and Vanya managed to stay sane. Damn, even Five’s more than humble education in psychology makes obvious that you just can’t raise kids the way their parents did! More precisely, such parents are unable to raise normal kids… Well, this is fitting; he and Vanya have never been normal by any measure.

Take these names. His name, “Five”, for example, was meant to signify the fifth man in the Hargreeves’ line since the day of the “omen” (yes, lunacy runs in the family). And “Vanya”? Five read it was a diminutive form for some male name. The question is: where did their mother manage to dig it up? In what old papers? Did she hear it on the radio or in a film? OK, maybe, his little sister was luckier than him in this regard: her name is not a number, at least. It doesn’t even sound that bad, it he is being honest. Five, on the other hand, was not spared by bullies, eager to mangle his name in the dumbest of ways. His peers didn’t have an ounce of fantasy, at that. Five remembers Vanya trying to defend him, shouting at his attackers… She needed some time to realise that Five couldn’t care less.

 

Five turns on his side, his face to the wall, and rolls himself into his blanket. Oh, yeah. It will make him safer, indeed.

He’s lived in the middle of nowhere for five years now. He’s done an enormous amount of work to organize this secret den. But, it seems, he was still unable to understand what he really wanted at the time. When Five moved here, he thought it was peace and quiet that he craved; to stay away from people so that no foreign voices, unexpected smells, or unbidden touches would disturb his thoughts’ flow.  
It’s hard to admit, but five years ago he didn’t know much at all.

Five covers his head with the blanket.

Did he really expect that after running into the woods he’ll stop being the fifth in line? That the disappointment in mom and dad will magically disappear somehow?

If the younger Five would hear about himself in the present, he’d call his present-self a coward.  
And a rascal.

Screw the university he simply didn’t attend one day. Screw his flat that he entrusted to his lawyer on the last possible day without notifying her beforehand. Fuck it all.

But Vanya, why did he leave Vanya? For what?

“She wouldn’t have followed me here,” - utters Five through gritted teeth, holding his eyes shut. - “She needs viewers. Audiences. Who would she play here for? Bobcats? Chipmunks?”

Fucking hell, what kind of nonsense is he blabbering aloud.

Five curls up into a ball and covers his head with his hands. Just make it go away, this gnawing, horrible, unbearable feeling.

Loneliness.

Go back, then, tells Five himself.

“Come back to Vanya, you idiot!” - shouts Five, simultaneously marvelling at how loud his voice can actually be.

Voice, ha. Holy cats, it’s his alarm blazing!  
Just as he was when he dressed to bed, in a tee and shorts, Five dashes to his computer. That’s right: someone is trying to near his house. The footage shows a human figure at the edge of the protected area, first. Suddenly, it disappears, as if dissolving into thin air. Then, a few ticks later, some small animal gets caught in one of the traps. How did the animal even get so far without being noticed by the cameras? Seems like the tracking system needs an update. But wait, he’s worked on it just a month ago… Anyway, sneaky little animals are nothing compared to the fact that he’s seen a human on the screen. This is serious.

Armed and angry, Five crawls outside.

He wanders through the territory of the abandoned factory (his territory) and tries to find the trespasser based on his instruments’ readings. But it’s all in vain - the human (man, it looked like) has all but vanished.

There are be two variants possible, considers Five, continuing with his fruitless search. The unknown man either left the perimeter or is still here, hiding. Doing well, if the latter is the case. Both variants are unacceptable. Both mean that someone has found Five’s refuge. The fact that this someone has come at him under the veil of darkness and doesn’t show up or cry for help shows he doesn’t mean well.

Five lists the possible escape routes in his head; there are several abandoned places in the world. Or, maybe, it’s the sign to go back to the civilised world he was waiting for...

The search goes on until dawn. Five returns to his house (as silently and secretly as he can manage) to check what else his cameras have caught during the night. Turns out, there’s nothing helpful. No-thing at all. Only Five’s lonely figure is running from one hiding place to another.

All night on the move, and not a single lead.  
Five feels like a complete idiot. It’s a rare, unfamiliar feeling for him.  
There’s no one to vent on here, at that. There’s also no one to blame if anything goes wrong - he’s chased himself to this place, anything that may happen is his responsibility.  
Well, Five knew what he was doing, moving to this factory. It’s time to face the consequences.

Is there any sense in looking outside his camp? Finding out where the trespasser is heading? Or is it an unnecessary risk?

 

Shit, shit, shit. Five starts mumbling under his nose, talking to his imaginary female friend Dolores. He doesn’t like to remember how he made her up; how, at the very beginning of his willing seclusion, he drew a girl on one of the walls, gave her a name and started discussing the most important questions with her. Even now Five doesn’t want to admit to himself that all this was because he was scared and horribly lonely, and to pretend that he was talking to Vanya seemed too… naive (and embarrassing to the point of shameful).

Dolores offers him to contact his sister and leave the factory. She’s always afraid of something, isn’t she?  
… Well, now Five had a fight with Dolores. Add insult to injury.  
Five sighs heavily. This nightly incident is bad for his nerves.

In this moment, Five remembers that there’s some small animal suffering in one of his traps. It won’t save itself without Five’s interference. Five doesn’t have to worry about food today (he’s stocked enough); he doesn’t have any urgent business that needs attending, either.  
Five sighs again and heads out. He can make this night end well for someone, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you say? Interested in what Five may find?
> 
> The new chapter will appear in about two days, don't forget to subscribe)


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five frees the animal from the trap, but it's not what he expected.  
> Nothing goes right since the night when the alarm went off!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey everyone!
> 
> Missed me? Yeah, I guessed so! No need to worry anymore: the update is here!
> 
> Finally, there's more action! Have fun reading!

Five is cautiously walking through the wilderness towards the activated trap.

Pale rays of sunlight charge through the bulk of blue-grey trees. It’s peaceful and quiet, as it can only be where humans are not in charge.

All the while, his mind never stops calculating the possible outcome of the latest events. What if someone just waits to use his leniency and this animal is nothing but a decoy?

 

After looking around carefully, Five strides into a clearing under a young maple tree. That’s where the ill-fated trap is hidden. Most certainly, there’s a squirrel or a chipmunk. Whatever animal it may be, though, it must be desperate for freedom and thus - dangerous. His previous catch tried to bite his pinkie off, that’s why Five was sure to put thick gloves on this time - he isn’t keen on losing his fingers.

 

Seems like everything is clear. Now it’s time to check the trap so he bravely walks to it.

 

But when Five sees who’s inside, he can’t believe his eyes.

Normally, it’s not easy to catch him by surprise but this time life managed to.

 

In his trap, the one positioned on the territory of an abandoned factory, which is situated in the middle of a thick green forest, so big that there’s no way to reach the next human dwelling in less than several days without a helicopter…

 

… there’s a grey, shaggy, thin as a rail, striped stray cat.

 

There are no cities in a 300-kilometre radius, thinks Five. Only small villages, but the locals, not to mention their domestic animals, don’t ever wander off to his part of the woods.

 

Five can’t resist rubbing his eyes in disbelief. Is it just a vision, isn’t it?

Dolores helpfully supplies that isolation may play weird jokes with a human’s mind. Five scowls.

 

The cat, meanwhile, notices Five, and, naturally, starts yelling at the top of its lungs. Five feels for it; he’d behave the same as the cat in its place. The shrill, obnoxious meowing seems to strike to the marrow. Well, decides Five, at least, it’s a good motivation for him to act quickly.

 

Deftly and without additional fuss, Five frees the hapless troublemaker. It’s fairly easy if you know how. To his astonishment, the cat shuts up the second Five’s hand touches the trap’s lock. He (it’s a male) seems to be waiting patiently for Five to finish. No unnecessary struggles. No additional sounds. It’s suspicious, in a way, but Five decides to pay it no attention. In the back of his mind, he is still busy analysing the night’s events.

 

Five takes the cat out of the trap, puts him on the ground and is already turning to go back home (if the tiny predator made it all the way here he must be able to fend for himself in the woods, and no, Dolores, we won’t discuss his protruding ribs now) when he hears that “Meow”.

Then again, more persistently: “Me-o-ow!”

Five ignores the cocky bastard.

 

Yet, to Five’s utter displeasure, the meowing accompanies him all the way back. Which means that the stray stubbornly follows behind. What the ever-loving fuck?!

 

As Five reaches the entrance to his house, the cat suddenly grows silent. It can’t be a good sign.

 

Five turns around. The cat is sitting on the ground behind his back and looks at him pleadingly. How bold of him! Five bares his teeth in annoyance. He doesn’t have time to nurture stray animals! But of course, the cat doesn’t give a damn that he destroys someone’s ordinary course of life just by being here. The beast is hungry – and what can be more important than that?

 

But if Five feeds the grey cat once, the cat won’t ever leave him alone.

He shouldn’t give the cat food, says Five to himself. He can’t allow the cat to get used to it.

The intruder needs learn right away that Five doesn’t intend on taking care of anyone. Yes, exactly. So Five nods to himself, enters his shack quickly and decisively closes the door behind himself. He made the right choice.

 

The morning is only starting, but alas, the day is already ruined.

 

By Midday, Five starts realising the sheer volume of his problems. The cat keeps howling non-stop under his door. Five can’t concentrate on anything; he blames the lack of sleep.

 

The cat doesn’t stop shouting when dinner comes, either. Five stubbornly pretends that he isn’t even there.

 

This night is even worse than the previous one. Five finds out that Grey (he needs to call him something) has a good pair of lungs, indeed. Five would have tried to use ear protectors, but, unfortunately, his paranoia says no.

At 4 a.m., Five stands up from his mattress and makes his first coffee. He’s starting his day a little earlier than usual, so what?

Dolores says that Five fights the inevitable. Five stubbornly keeps silent, staring at the wall in front of him. The cat continues his howling behind the door.

 

At noon, Five capitulates.

Grey receives a portion of canned meat.

(Five has never seen anyone devour their food so greedily.)

As an afterthought, Five brings out a bowl with fresh water for Grey. Then, without looking at the cat, he hurries to hide in his den and close the door.

 

(Dolores, I know you have a heart of gold, but no, we won’t let a dirty, flea-infested animal inside our home.)

 

This night, no one disturbs Five’s rest. He turns from one side to the other restlessly for some time, expecting the cat to start his concert anew any minute, but it never happens. Unnoticeably for himself, Five falls into a dreamless slumber.

 

The next day, Five takes a walk through the forest. It’s what he does quite frequently. It’s routine. He needs something safe and predictable after the jeopardy of the last two days.

 

When he’s leaving home, he looks around but the nosy cat is nowhere to be seen. And still, Five can’t shake off the feeling that someone is watching him. It’s nonsense, says Five to himself. It’s his paranoia playing tricks on him since that night when the alarm went off (and Five checks his security system daily from then on), nothing more.

 

Despite his attempts to keep his cool, Five’s nerves are taut with tension and he can only think about getting back inside his walls. Every little sound makes him flinch; every shadow seems to be plotting some evil plan against him.

 

After another false alert, Five manages to notice a familiar shaggy tail before it disappears behind a bush.

 

It’s just that cat. A simple feral animal. It’s OK. No one is going to jump him here.

The relief is immediate and palpable. Five just wants to put his hands on his chest where his heart is beating too fast and stand like that, motionless, until it calms down. He’s got unaccustomed to high levels of stress, that’s obvious.

 

When his heart rate slows to normal and he can think straight again, Five realises that the cat must have decided to stay in his forest longer (and no, Five doesn’t hide a hope that the cat won’t leave at all for one reason or another). Is he to expect another meowing torment?

 

The wish to continue his walk faded so Five turns back and heads home. The anxiety made him feel his tiredness more acutely. Five yawns once and can’t stop yawning all the way home afterwards. He notices that his eyes feel dry, as if there’s sand under his eyelids. He can also feel a headache starting.

 

When Five nears the factory’s main territory, he suddenly remembers whose fault it is that he hasn’t slept two nights in a row. The very same second, the accumulated anger soars in him, and Five closes his fists, barely keeping himself from hitting a nearby tree. He stiffens his jaw and walks faster.

 

(That’s so adult of you, to get angry because of cat, darling, comments Dolores, her voice full of irony.)

 

Little does she know! Stupid cat! It’s not a simple animal, it one big pain-in-the-ass!

 

Five is furious.

Everything. Annoys. Him. So. Fucking. Much.

 

He reaches his destination in record time. He closes the house door from the inside and thinks that it’s time to not let anyone influence his life anymore. Not even a stray cat!

 

Five spends the rest of the day in relative peace. Yet, in the evening, right before the sunset, the familiar “meow” sounds from behind the door. Five raises one eyebrow, bemused. Strangely, but in comparison to yesterday, today’s meowing sounds almost polite.

 

(Give the cat the rest of the canned meat, advises Dolores emphatically. Don’t ruin the evening for yourself and for him!)

 

But Five has his principles.

The cat needs to understand that the first time was the only time he got fed here, thinks Five. Grey’s been given a good start. Let him go and fend for himself from now on; he could catch some wild mice for dinner now. Or grasshoppers. Let that dumb cat swallow a whole grass snake from nose to tail if he so desires, what does Five care!

 

“Polite” meowing turns into bold attempts at storming the door and angry howls. One might think Five doesn’t transfer kitten-support payment to Grey in time (it’s this noise what makes stupid thoughts appear in his head!).

 

(Told you so, comments Dolores, full of malicious joy.)

 

But no, Five doesn’t give up as easily. He puts his headphones on and sits down at his computer. The light of the monitor hurts his sore eyes, but Five has things to do, after all. He’s almost abandoned his current project because of the latest, utterly nerve-wracking events; time to remedy this.

 

What greets him immediately after turning his computer on is Vanya’s worried message. Yeah, seems like Five forgot to send his customary “I’m alive” yesterday. Well, this is awkward. Five writes a long (by his standards) message trying to calm his sister down. Her answer comes almost immediately. It looks like she started to contemplate organizing a searching party, and this without knowing Five’s coordinates. Five imagines Vanya looking for his dead body around the world while it lies here in the shack, frozen solid, and shudders. He should think up a system that will send his coordinates to Vanya under the condition that…

 

A soul-wrenching, strained, loud “Mrrrao!” bursts into the silence under the headphones (because of Vanya’s messages, Five forgot to turn the music on). Seems like Grey decided to up the volume.

 

The nasty cat pretends that he’s being slain alive. It sounds quite natural, Five will give him that.

He’s good, thinks Five. A real artist.

 

Five is able to endure the “concert” only a little longer after that.

Ten more minutes, and he, scolding himself mercilessly, finds the remnants of the yesterday’s canned meat, pours some water into a bowl (just look at this brat; he already has his own water bowl!) and takes it all outside.

 

Meowing stops the second Five opens the door slightly.

The cat, seeing Five, stands on his hind legs and tenderly waggles his front paw in the air.

If Five was writing a cat-human dictionary, he’d put it under “gimme, gimme please!”

 

 “See, you can be nice when you want to,” - says Five putting the offerings on the floor. Immediately, the cat is at the bowls and bites into the food with gusto.

 

Five spends some time admiring energized flicks of the striped tail, then shakes his head, marvelling at his own stupidity, and heads inside.

 

Before he falls asleep, Five realises that he addressed Grey this evening. He moans heavily, hides his head under the pillow and tries to quench his annoyance. Talking to cats - that’s exactly what he needs (no offence, Dolores).

How could he let himself domesticate a feral cat, asks Five himself (and, more importantly, why? what for?!). The night doesn’t give an answer to any of his questions.

 

After fifteen minutes of tossing and turning on his mattress, Five crawls out from under the pillow and lies down on his back properly. He sighs heavily once more and tries to come to terms with his current predicament. Nothing too bad has happened.

He just domesticated a cat. Who would have predicted, though?

A cat. Five’s a dummy, isn’t he?

  
Let him NOT start thinking about whether Grey is cold at night.

 

 

Five and Grey require only a little time to fall into a certain routine.

In the evening, Grey announces his presence and waits humbly until he’s fed.

Not making Grey wait too long, Five brings him food and fresh water (and no, he doesn’t hurry to feed his cat as soon as possible), watches Grey eat (but not for too long since it’s just sappy nonsense and his projects can’t wait), then leaves. When Five goes out on some business, or takes a walk in the woods, or draws on the factory’s walls, he can always feel Grey’s presence nearby. At some point, Five realises (and admits to himself) that he enjoys Grey’s company and feels a little hurt when said cat ignores him.

 

And then, one little something changes Five’s whole perception of Grey.

 

One evening (it’s getting colder outside: autumn is close), Grey climbs on the factory workshop’s roof where Five occupies his folded throne and watches the sunset together with him.

Five has no doubts that the cat came to this exact spot and made himself comfortable next to Five’s chair for no other purpose than to behold the flaming sky.

 

The next day, Five finds some dingy wash-tub, pours a portion of his shampoo into a little jar, adds some stuff designed to help against fleas and other parasites, boils the water and busies himself with luring the striped freeloader into his home.

 

When offered the chance to enter a warm house, Grey doesn’t take it blindly. He waits and seemingly tries to gauge the situation while Five watches him patiently. The attraction of the food left in the centre of the room is too strong to fight against, though, and soon Grey gets caught into Five’s trap again.

 

It’s not a quick process. Still outside, the cat eyes the door distrustfully for some time and doesn’t hurry to act. Only after weighing his options (from the looks of it), Grey starts moving. When he is crossing the threshold, Five holds his breath; but no, Grey doesn’t turn back. He is smelling the air non-stop; his dusky-pink nose quivers adorably at that. Already halfway to the food, he is still casting sidelong glances at the crack between the door and the doorframe, as if contemplating if it’s not too late to flee. Five admires his cautiousness.

 

Despite everything, Grey makes it to the bowls.

 

Standing by the exit, Five watches for the first time how Grey finishes his portion. To his joy, the cat gained weight and his fur started to shine. His tail didn’t look like a pitiful carrot anymore, too. But he clearly needs more care.

 

Grey is not in that bad of a shape, after all, decides Five gleefully in the end. Grey seems to be immersed in the task at hand, so Five can go on with his plan. Stealthily, holding his breath, Five closes the door and tiptoes to the computer to write his obligatory message to Vanya. After throwing one more look at the cat, he barely refrains from adding in the end of it: “In case of my untimely death please fault Grey the cat”. Five grins at his own joke, completely ignoring the pitiful stares from Dolores. He has a damn nice sense of humour, sue her!

 

Luckily, Five doesn’t notice or ignores Five’s manoeuvres. It takes him a couple more minutes to lick the bowls clean. When finished, he sits down on the floor, yawns with relish and then starts on washing his face with a paw.

 

He’s funny, observes Dolores. Five doesn’t bother reacting.

 

Five can’t decide on whether Grey will be offended if Five washes him in a tub right after he gave himself a tongue-bath. Won’t he consider it a sign of disrespect to his efforts on Five’s part? While Five works through his doubts, the bathing cat starts on his slightly distended belly (it’s white in the middle, as it turns out), then works on the cleanliness of his paws, then his sides and his back. Afterwards, Grey plops down on his ass, masterfully tugs one hind paw behind his ear and without a hint of shame starts cleaning his asshole. When Grey is finished with his washing routine, he’s relaxed and slightly drowsy. Maybe, it’s his satiety; maybe, it’s just because the warmth makes him sleepy. But a minute or two more, and Grey is already snoring away, curled up in a ball right where he was eating.

 

Looks like he doesn’t care about his previous suspicions anymore, chuckles Five quietly.

 

He hasn’t foreseen that Grey would fall asleep immediately.

Five can’t help but sigh. He boiled the water for nothing, it appears.

 

The time left before going to bed, Five has to slink around his room silently, giving the striped sleeping ball a wide range. He tries to make as little noise as possible when he moves the water tub out of the way, as well. Grey needs his rest.

 

Already lying on his mattress, all wrapped up in a blanket, Five is watching Grey sleep.

His whiskers tremble now and then, as if he smells something in his sleep, too. Sometimes, Grey changes his position smoothly, stretching in a bow, then rolls into a ball again on his other side.

 

Five falls asleep contemplating just how much fluffier Grey will become if he receives all the care he needs.

 

 

 

A strange noise wakes Five up. Has it started to rain while he was asleep?..

 

Five comes to his senses uncharacteristically slowly today. He feels relaxed, calm. His usual urge to get as many things done as possible right this moment is gone, replaced by an unfamiliar tranquillity.

 

The feeling of relaxation is so proficient that Five doesn’t reject the idea of calling Vanya and talking to her instead of just texting right ahead when it pops up in front of his mind’s eye, as he would’ve done every other day.

 

Who would have thought? Five doesn’t recognize himself.

 

He is past thirty; might as well start making responsible decisions, jokes Five in his head and extends his arm in the direction where his clothes are lying. He doesn’t proceed with dressing, though: this very moment, Five realises what the source of the noise that has woken him up must be.

 

There’s water on and running in his tiny shower cabin.

 

Five’s barely awake imagination is active enough to picture very vividly how Grey climbs into the cabin out of sheer curiosity, accidentally opens the hot tape and gets boiled alive. Were Five a little more aware, he’d realise he doesn’t ever set the water in the shower on _hot_ … But Five’s mind isn’t present enough for that.

 

This is how Five ends up scurrying to the shower, his bare feet sliding on the concrete floor, totally expecting to fish out Grey’s wet and very dead body from the cabin. He’s too hazy to consider how he’ll live with himself afterwards. He’d call it the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. For now, his only goal is to open the shower as quickly as possible.

Small blessings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you think is happening? Poor Five, this strain is unhealthy for our young man!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five has a very embarrassing encounter.
> 
> The cat is there, too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my darlings!
> 
> I apologize to those who waited for the next chapter for 8 months. I didn't feel like working on this until lately.  
> Now I do! So please, read more about Five and his mysterious cat-friend!
> 
> TRIGGERS: abuse, non-con, cruelty, all in one paragraph mostly (I put inside of two horizontal lines, a short explanation in the end).  
> Also, the fairy-tale I mention is retold below.

 

 

With a firm shove, Five slides the shower cabin door open. He’s ready to fish out Grey out of the boiling water with his bare hands if the need arises.

 

But it becomes evident that the plan requires to be changed, and fast: instead of a cat’s dead body, Five’s gaze falls onto hairy male testicles.

 

A few ticks - and Five pulls the trigger at a weird black-haired man with big brown eyes, a small goatee and a pair of grey cat ears. The man looks at Five in absolute horror and doesn’t do anything to stop him or shield himself from a shot. 

 

Five feels his heart rate speed up.

The unknown man is fully naked, wet and helpless, Five reminds himself; he’s also unarmed. Five is the one with the gun. It’s not like he scores bull’s eye every time he fires but he certainly won’t miss a target this close.

Everything is under control, no reason to panic. Five takes a deep breath and takes a step back from the shower, just in case, still targeting the man.

 

What if the man didn’t come alone, though? What if all of this is a distraction technique? Then Five needs to get rid of the intruder quickly to check his door and camera readings ASAP.

 

While thinking over his next actions, Five continues his scrutiny of the man.

The intruder looks pathetic. Hollow eyes outlined by violet circles, black hair plastered to his forehead, a haphazardly chopped goatee, and a small moustache. And these idiotic grey ears! What kind of knucklehead enters the shower wearing furred accessories? Moreover, Five notices a shabby furry tail (!) that hangs between the man’s legs. Five doesn’t want to spare even a single thought on the issue of where and how this tail is attached.

 

With every passing second, Five wants to make the acquaintance of the dumb asshole less and less. Maybe, it’s not very clever of him to assume but he’s fairly sure the man isn’t a threat to him. He just needs to give him a great scare and send him to the four winds. But, even if Five decides to shoot him later on, the man has to leave the shower first.

 

“Switch the water off,” - Five orders. The man blinks, then zones out for a couple of seconds. Five is already opening his mouth to repeat the order when the man turns his back to him. Not bothering about the gun aimed at him in the slightest,  the man starts patting the shower cabin walls chaotically in his search of the switch. Well, if he were in that man’s shoes, Five would’ve totally preferred to keep his eyes on the potential reason for his untimely death but to each his own.

 

Actually, Five is more intrigued by the fact that the man clutches his grey striped furry tail between his knees. For a moment, Five has an impression that the tail twitches on its own.

 

Half a minute goes by. The breaker is either blinded by the water in his eyes or is not very bright since he can’t manage to turn off the faucet however he tries.

“In the center, right in front of you. Push the handle down,” - commands Five. To his surprise, with these instructions, the man tackles his task quite quickly. The water stops running, finally, and the man turns around to face Five again. He smiles sincerely and looks Five into the eyes as if expecting to be praised. 

 

Five really wants to close his eyes and shake his head to ban the illusion.

He refrains.

 

Holding the gun with his right arm, Five blindly reaches out to the stack of dry towels (it’s good to have everything close at hand in your house) and tosses one to the man (oh no, Delores, I didn’t aim at his face, why would you think so?).

 

“Towel yourself off and get out. Where did you leave your clothes?” - Five asks. All this fuss annoys him. He wants to solve the issue with the wet cat-man and forget about it.

The man tugs the towel down from his face and presses it to his chest. He looks… disappointed? In any case, he isn’t eager to reply to the question. Just stands there, as if dumbfounded, and mouths something silently.

 

“Where are your clothes, I ask you?” - Five inquires venomously. He didn’t run away from humanity and settle in a forest hut to enjoy the view of male genitals first thing in the morning.

 

The man in the shower flinches… and sets his ears back. The ears at the top of his head. The furry ones.

 

Meanwhile, the plush tail between the man’s legs lifts up on its own. It almost reaches the intruder’s pelvis as if in an attempt to shield his tender parts.

 

Holy shit, thinks Five. He hasn’t even drunk his coffee yet. What had he done to deserve this?

 

In hope that the Matrix will finally stop glitching, Five opens and closes his eyes slowly several times. No such luck. The ears and tail don’t disappear this easily. What’s worse, Five doesn’t get away with his carelessness. On his fourth blink, he gets a faceful of wet towel, and the second-long pause on his part is enough for the naked man to slink out of the shower cabin.

 

Cursing himself, Five tosses the towel to the side and glances around the room quickly. There’s nowhere to hide, obviously, but the fact remains - the mysterious freeloader has disappeared without a trace. The door hasn’t been opened - Five would’ve heard. The same goes for the entrance to the bomb shelter.

 

Where did the man go?!

 

Theories, one crazier than the last, start flocking in Five’s head.

For now, the one where he’d just dreamt this oddity wins.

 

Five looks around hastily - everything is in place, there are no indications of where a grown man could be hiding.

If Five hasn’t gone mad then he’s been masterfully tricked. And who knows which is worse.

 

The next second Five’s eyes fall on a weird lump under his blanket which seemingly made a move just now. Holding onto his gun tightly (Five is lucky to not have dropped it - he’s not himself today), Five inches closer to the corner where his mattress lies.

 

The lump twitches, then stills.

 

Five grabs the blanket and throws it away in a fast motion… and finds wet, pitiful Grey there.

Grey says: “Meow!” and it’s maybe the most modest “meow” Five had ever heard from him.

Five puts the blanket back where it was, covering the trembling body, and steps away from the bed holding onto his head with his free hand.

  
  


Five has entirely forgotten about the presence of the cat. What else has he missed?

Five comes to the door and checks the locks - no, no one touched those after him.

 

No one is hunting him, at least.

Somehow, this thought does nothing to calm him down.

 

Five sits down at the table, places the gun next to his monitor, rests his chin in his hands and fixes his gaze on his mattress. The animal under his blanket plays dead.

As if it could change anything now.

 

Delores is suspiciously silent. Five doesn’t know what to say himself.

 

For the life of him, Five doesn’t know what to do with the cat. Maybe, he should occupy himself somehow. Decision made, Five gets dressed, has breakfast, checks his emails. All this time, the lump on his mattress stays nearly immobile.

 

When Five’s nerves finally give out and he stalks to the bed to make sure the bedraggled mophead didn’t suffocate to death, he finds the cat sleeping peacefully (!). The bastard allowed himself to relax to the level where he doesn’t react at anything.

 

But Five is too tired to have no idea of what’s going on to let the cat rest. “Hey, - Five says, - “Hey, wake up, you furry beast!”.

Zero reaction from Grey.

 

Five touches the cat’s fluffy side and gives it a little shove. Nothing.

Five gives the cat a push. The same effect. 

Finally, Five scruffs the damn cat and starts shaking him for real.

Finally, he hears the familiar dissatisfied “meow”. The smart-ass seems to be regaining consciousness.

 

“I will drown you in a tub if you don’t transform into a man with a goatee that I saw in the shower, right away,” - Five threatens.

 

Nothing happens. Very soon, Five gets too tired of waiting. Holding the cat by his scruff turns out to be convenient so Five gives the cat one firm shake, as a warning.

 

“You know, I think when water starts filtering into your lungs, you’ll prefer transformation to drowning, - Five contemplates aloud. - “Not a hard choice to make, even for an unashamed breaker as you.” 

 

Did he imagine it, or did the cat try to shoot him a hurt look?

 

Five decides to give the cat mercy. He puts it down on the mattress. The cat stays “sitting” on his butt, leaning on his front paws and stretching his hind paws. There’s an expression of utter bafflement and some level of indignation on the cat’s muzzle. 

 

“I count to three. If there’s no man instead of a cat, the tub comes into play,” - warns Five.

 

The cat looks at him disapprovingly.

 

“One.”

 

The cat’s squirming. Finally got the picture, huh?

Five has a fleeting thought of how dumb he would look if it turned out that he’s been threatening with torture a simple street cat.

 

“Two.”

 

The cat stares at him in silence. Tries to bide his time, the asshole.

 

“Two and a half, Grey, and if I manage to say, “Three,” both of us are going to regret it.”

 

Because he doesn’t have the slightest interest in trying to drown the cat in a tub, getting battle injuries and sloshing water around.

 

But Grey keeps quiet.

 

«Thr…»

 

«Meow».

 

Pardon, what? Five looks at Grey questioningly. 

 

The cat leans his forehead towards Five, then starts shaking his head from side to side.

 

“Do you want me to look away?” - guesses Five.

 

A nod. It was definitely a nod.

 

“No way! You’ll have to transform just like that. Too late to act shy for you.”

 

The cat makes big eyes and looks at FIve pleadingly.

Does he really expect this to work?

Fuck.

Five had a better opinion of himself.

 

“One suspicious sound, and your body will have one additional hole,” - Five warns, takes the gun from the table in a showy manner and then slowly turns his back to the mattress. He thinks that both Delores and Grey know that he bluffs.

 

And… nothing happens. Silence.

 

Five doesn’t want to look at the mattress. What if there’s still only that cat, the sly trash heap dweller? Five suddenly decides that he won’t “bathe” the weird cat in any case. He just won’t let it inside anymore. And, **_if_ ** he is able to turn into a man, after all, he’d have to come and ask for permission if he ever wants to take a shower in Five’s hut again.

 

“How much longer do I have to sit here? It’s not the height of summer!”

 

Five turns around with dizzying speed.

 

That man! With a goatee! Like in the shower! His hair is curly! And he has a striped tail. And ears. And they twitch as if they were real. Could it be?.. No, it can’t be...

 

Five realizes that he stares only after his mannerless guest, who still sits in the same position with his legs wide apart, waves his hand in front of him.

 

Five blinks and focuses on the face of the man… Grey?

For his own sake, Five returns the gun to the table. His hands seem to be trembling.

 

Grey, or, more precisely, the bold man in whom he’d transformed, seems to have come to the conclusion that he won’t be killed immediately. After he starts talking, he doesn’t show any intention of shutting up.

 

“Since you know everything already, will you let me stay? I can only come to spend the night! I don’t need a bed, I feel fine on the floor. My fur is finally warm and shining again, all thanks to you, I must say! Mmm, if I continue feasting on these lush tinned food of yours, I may be able to leave behind the pain in my bowels…”

 

“Show your ass to me,” - Five commands.

 

To Five’s mild surprise, Grey complies easily and gets on all fours, his backside to Five. At the same time, he starts sprouting some incomprehensible bullshit. Something about how Five’s interest flatters him but isn’t it too soon, they have just met? Five ignores the word vomit, examining the man’s tailbone with his gaze instead.

That’s it, his spine ends in a tail. There’s even a little patch of fur above the tailbone.

 

As if spellbound, Five can’t take his eyes off the odd element of Grey’s anatomy.

It’s a usual tail, nothing different from a real cat’s tail. It’s as thick as a cheetah’s, maybe. It’s hard to say; Five is not a felinologist. The tail is painted the same way a common street cat’s would be: light-grey and dark-grey stripes. The fur is short but dense.

Five comes to the conclusion that, all in all, it’s quite a nice tail. Perhaps, if Grey is fed and bathed regularly, the tail will look even better.

 

The tail, meanwhile, slashes from side to side. It’s so cute and attractive that Five’s arm shoots out automatically to try and catch it.

The quick reflexes don’t let Five down: Five catches his target… and immediately hears a scandalised: “Hey!” with the familiar tone of: “Meow!”

 

Five takes his hand away the same moment and looks at Grey with big eyes.

“Pull at his moustache as well,” - offers Delores helpfully.

 

The man, in his turn, swings around to face Five, sits cross-legged on the bed and, looking offended, snuggles his tail to his chest.

 

“No, I get it, I do, but there must be some boundaries! My poor tail has suffered enough because of my nomadic life! Are you even aware of what a precise and sensitive tool a cat’s tail is? Especially, _my_ tail, since I happen to be the highest stage of feline evolution…”

 

“Would you care to elaborate? - Five remembers himself. - What are you?”

 

“I? The usual werecat.”

 

Just listen to this furry-eared bastard! The usual, he says!

 

“And where do you come from, ears, tail and all?”

 

Grey gives him a saccharine smile.

 

“Crawled out of my mom. As far as I’m concerned she decided to give birth to me in her cat form. It’s, you know, easier on the female in labor…”

 

He’s trying to deflect again. Doesn’t matter, Five can find it out later.

 

“How did you find me here?”

 

Grey shuts up. He even seems to shrink in on himself a little.

He’s hugging his torso with his both arms, and this, unlike the half-joking attempt to save his precious tail from assault, looks more like a gesture of self-defense. Five sees with astonishment how his maudlin guest changes right in front of his eyes: his eyes lose their shining light, his ears (these funny furry ears) press themselves to his head, his whole body grows tense. Five is ready to take his question back (what does it matter how the poor creature got here - Five is unreasonably sure that the dumb cat doesn’t want him harm) when Grey opens his mouth and says slowly, in a constrained voice:

 

“It was by accident. As I recall it, I was wandering the woods for two months when I smelled a human. You know, I was sure that I’ll die under some spruce, and there won’t be anyone to bury me. So the wolves will be sure to rip my dead body into pieces…”

 

It seems to Five that, despite the bravado, this is the first time Grey speaks seriously.

 

“Cover yourself with the blanket, - Five tells Grey unexpectedly for himself. - You’re shivering.”

 

Grey lifts his eyes on Five. Scrutinizes him.

Five feels the urge to hide from his attention.

 

Without changing his position, Grey tugs the blanket up on his shoulders. He smiles although his eyes stay listless, haunted. There’s so much pain in them that Five feels almost physical pain while looking in them.

Grey, meanwhile, gathers his thoughts. He even sits up straighter, then shifts his chin down as if intending to say something unpleasant to himself.

 

For some reason, Five doesn’t feel like listening to Grey’s story at all.

 

“You wish to know what brought me to the forest, of course. It’s simple! You’ll see it! I was brought here in the trunk of a car, bound and unconscious. Funny story, that. They just left me in a clearing - didn’t know I was able to get free when I come back to myself.”

 

“Excuse me?” - Five asks. His genial brain refuses to find any explanation for the absurd events the werecat is telling him about right now. 

 

* * *

“Excuse me, what? Did you mean to inquire why I was bound? Maybe, why was I in the trunk? Or, maybe why did they drug me up? Nothing special. I will explain it to you. That weird mafioso that gave me shelter decided his wife was cheating on him with me. I tried to convince him that I only go after boys and that I wouldn’t even get hard for her but he didn’t listen. It was an awkward situation, honestly.”

 

Grey stops talking for a second. His gaze becomes thoughtful, he purses his lips in a sad line. Then he starts again.

 

“I hope she is still alive, the poor dear… Well, I myself certainly had nowhere to go after such accusations from him - there were his people everywhere; all shouting, running around. There were also lanterns on the perimeter of the fence - like in jail, y’know? And this fuckard suddenly said that he just remembered a fairy tale he’d read in his childhood. About an owner who brought his mischievous cat to the forest in a sack…”

* * *

 

Five swallows the lump in his throat.

This story better be a lie. Yes.

The worse for them that it seems to be the absolute truth.

 

Grey shifts his gaze down and starts murmuring under his breath: “Does it mean you’re my fox, then? You fed me, warmed me up, didn’t let me perish…”

 

Five steps from foot to foot and then goes to his clothes storage. It’s also a good reason not to look in Grey’s direction right now. They have a similar build judging from his looks. Five finds the items Grey might need: underwear, socks, a T-shirt, pants, and brings them to the mattress.

 

“Get dressed,” - he tells Grey. Phew, seems like his voice doesn’t waver.

 

Grey’s voice, on the opposite, trembles, even if he tries to hide it behind a fake cheerful facade.

 

“Tha-a-ank you-u! That’s so benevolent on your part, the kindest Fox! I don’t even know how to thank you properly! I will cherish them like the apple of my eye! Oh, what’s this on the T-shirt? Your photograph? It seems that you’re an important person, Foxy!”

 

Five didn’t even notice that he gave Grey the T-shirt with a print that Vanya had ordered for him. There are two photos of Five from one of his lectures. In the first photo, he stands in front of the lecture hall looking at his students. He appears to be lost in thought. There’s also a text: "And YOU intend to take my exam?" The second photo is practically identical but Five smiles his signature smile (“Why are people such idiots?”) and the text says: “Good luck!” Five, indeed, examined students in this T-shirt. There may have been some university legends about it.

 

Vanya was so happy when Five sent her selfies in it.

“Give them at least a chance! For me!” - she wrote in response.

And Five would give his students a chance. Each of them. Exactly one.

 

Grey, meanwhile, is getting dressed with enthusiasm. It would be awkward to take his favoutite T-shirt from him now, right? Vanya wouldn’t have done that, for sure.

 

“Foxy, you’re a gem! I’d say that you’re like my long-lost sibling but you have no tail, so…”

 

“My name is Five,” - Five interrupts another bout of chatting. - “Enough of calling me Foxy. I didn’t even hear about such a tale.”

 

Grey who is tugging the second sock up his leg, freezes in the middle of the process and lifts his eyes to meet Five’s.

 

“Oh, wow! That’s a wonderful name!”

 

Just as he was, having one sock on and the other half-off, Grey jumps off to the concrete floor, bows lightly, and extends his hand to Five.

 

“I am Klaus, nice to meet you!”

 

Five shakes Klaus’ hand and asks: “Will you have lunch with me?”

 

All woes are forgotten in an instant. Klaus’ eyes shine with ethereal light, and his beaming smile would rival an iceberg in its dazzle.

If he keeps smiling like that, I’m gonna go blind, says Five to himself.

 

“Yes! Thousand times yes! And, you know... a lunch is enough for today. I mean, you can totally not feed me dinner as usual. One meal a day is more than enough. I always was a light eater…”

 

It seems like he’d have to start hunting in earnest, contemplates Five, easily drowning out Grey’s (no, Klaus’) lively chattering. Exactly. To check the animal traps - that’s a fitting daily task for Klaus.

 

There’s one thing Five wants to know. How much time has to pass for Klaus to allow Five to touch his soft ears? Maybe, it’s not as complicated with the ears as it is with the tail?

 

“I wouldn’t want to disrupt your thought process but it was like you mentioned something about food…”

 

Again with these pleading eyes.

Not a problem. He intended to start on lunch anyway.

 

This is the first meal in five years that Five shares with anyone.

 

Later, also for the first time in five years, someone watches Five work and Five is distracted from his project enough to watch this someone.

 

In the evening, right after dinner, sleepy Klaus starts undressing without any obvious reason. He takes all his clothes off and puts them on a box next to the entrance. Then, under Five’s curious stare (and seemingly having forgotten about his presence), Klaus does a weird backflip and lands as the well-known Grey.

 

So that’s how the werecats operate, decides Five.

 

Grey calmly trots into the corner to the left of the door, makes himself comfortable, winds himself into a ball, makes a contented breath, and closes his eyes.

 

Five shakes his head (what did he get himself into?) and opens his email application to write to his sister.

 

There’s an even sound from the corner, like a tiny motor. Is the cat _purring_? No way! 

 

“I got myself a pet,” - Five writes to Vanya instead of the standard: “I’m alright”.

 

Vanya is not online now, but Five is sure that by tomorrow morning his inbox will be full of unread messages with many exclamations and questions.

 

This strange day is ending on a positive note. Five falls asleep without a care in the world for the second time in a row.

 

Maybe, it's gonna settle one way or another, after all?..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, what do you say?
> 
> Was it a surprise for you? How do you like Klaus?
> 
>  
> 
> _(Explanation: Klaus lived with a mafioso who betrayed him and left in the forest)_
> 
>  
> 
> The Russian fairy tale I used as a reference: a naughty house cat is sent to the forest by his owner because of his shenanigans, and a forest fox takes the cat home. Together with the fox, cat has a happy life since they're both sly and use it to their mutual benefit.
> 
> Please, tell me, what you think! It's MEGA-important!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> You can contact me here:  
> on Twitter [Falka-tyan](https://twitter.com/FalkaTyan/)  
> or on Tumblr [Falka-tyan](http://falka-tyan.tumblr.com/)


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